Journal of a Mother's Heart
by Jedi Trace
Summary: PostNJO vignettes. Excerpts from the journal of Mara Jade Skywalker as she reflects on motherhood and life as a family.
1. Hope

**Title:** Journal of a Mother's Heart  
**Author:** Jedi Trace  
**Timeframe:**The Unifying Force and beyond  
**Characters:** Mara Jade Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, Ben Skywalker, Solo family  
**Genre:** Vignettes, series  
**Keywords:** Introspection, humor, drama, angst  
**Summary:** Excerpts from the journal of Mara Jade Skywalker as she reflects on motherhood and life as a family.  
**Notes:** This is a work in progress and new chapters will be posted as they are written.

**Disclaimer**: George Lucas owns it, I don't. No profit is being made. This applies to all future chapters.

Many special thanks to **rhonderoo**, my friend and beta.

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_Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body._ –Elizabeth Stone

**Hope**

The fact that I am a mother is living proof that the Force has a sense of humor.

Luke thinks I'm underrating myself when I say that, but I saw the Net poll when we got married that ranked me as the worst possible candidate for the job, and for once, I agreed with the holo gossip.

Parenthood is something for which I have absolutely no frame of reference. The only things I can really remember from my own childhood are endless hours of blaster practice, combat lessons, and running sims on every type of ship known to Imperial intelligence.

I lost track of how many nannies I had, but they all had the same stern and aloof personality. I rarely had one for more than a year at a time. Looking back, it was probably part of Palpatine's way of keeping me from getting attached to anyone. Not that any of that matters now. He's dead, thank the Force, and if I'd known then what I know now, I'd have gladly helped Vader with the deed...or at the very least, held his cape.

Fortunately for Ben, Luke is the most natural father imaginable. He says that it's because he had more practice with his niece, nephews, and children at the Jedi academy, but he doesn't fool me. There's a light in Luke's eyes around his son that could rival the suns of Tatooine.

I thought I'd seen every nuance of happiness in my husband's face, but none of them compared to the night Ben was born.

I can still see Luke leaning close to my bed in the medical ward of the _Errant Venture_, tears of joy streaming down his face. His breath was warm against my ear when he whispered in awe, "It's a boy, Mara. And he's healthy…perfectly healthy."

_Healthy_. He knew my greatest fear was that our baby would have been somehow be harmed by the Yuuzhan Vong disease, but he laid that fear to rest with a single word.

The bundle he held in front of me blurred and I squinted, struggling for a glimpse inside before succumbing to the darkness, to the consuming illness to which I had offered my body in exchange for the life of our baby. But the darkness did not come.

Instead, Luke's eyes and the tiny blue replicas of them in the blanket grew clearer.

Their faces did blur then and Luke reached over to wipe the tears from my cheeks. His eyes met mine and, even in our most intimate moments of joy, I had never seen them shine so brightly.

I have often seen that look since when he gazes longingly at the most recent holos of Ben sent faithfully from his guardians in the Maw.

It was while sorting through those very holos in a storage case on the _Jade Shadow_ that I found this empty journal. A wedding gift from Leia, I'd forgotten all about it.

A strange gift, I thought at the time, until one quiet afternoon several years later on Coruscant. Han, Luke and the children had gone to a charity flight show hosted by Rogue Squadron, and Leia and I sat on the balcony drinking afternoon cocktails.

I can't remember how the conversation turned to family memories, but Leia suddenly stood and went into the apartment. She emerged carrying a protective case which she placed gently on the table, "I want to show you something."

Inside the case was a small holo journal. She switched it on and the first thing I noticed was the uncanny resemblance between Leia and the older woman looking back from the screen.

"It was my grandmother's. She kept it after my father left home to become a Jedi." Leia's voice was calm with no trace of the anguish over the discovery of her father that I knew had once plagued her. The ghosts of the Sith no longer haunted my sister.

"You look like her."

Leia smiled proudly, "That's what Luke said, too."

We spent the rest of the day watching holo entries as Leia occasionally interjected details of the fateful trip to Tatooine that had introduced her to Shmi – and Anakin – Skywalker.

Leia's brown eyes, her grandmother's eyes, met mine as she confided that it was this journal that had convinced her to have children of her own. Seeing the world through Shmi Skywalker's eyes had changed her, she said. Not in a way that was monumental, like the explosion of a Death Star, or even outwardly evident - but inwardly…inaudibly.

"Sometimes," she had mused, "I think Fate itself hinges on the silent moments of change. When the rest of the world is ignored and the heart can listen, and speak. When we submit to something greater than ourselves."

I think I teased her about sounding like she was addressing the Senate – but she was right.

Again, I am reminded of Ben and the miracle of our family. The Force willed his conception and brought him safely into existence through no act of my own other than to surrender to its power and the love of my husband.

To be so intimately acquainted with the Force, the Skywalker family is surprisingly bereft of tangible objects of that legacy. Shmi's journal, Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber and a few artifacts from Tatooine and the Clone Wars are the only heirlooms that we will pass on to our children.

Other than Ben, of course, I have nothing of my own to contribute to our family. In fact, by any known records, I did not even exist until halfway through my second decade of life.

Ten years ago, as a newlywed, I never expected that I would use this journal. But now, I think it's not a bad idea, really, seeing as how women with the last name _Skywalker _have a disturbing tendency to simply disappear from existence.

Ten years ago, I also never expected to be living in a cave on Zonama Sekot waiting for...we don't know what. An end? A beginning?

I miss Ben. It's been almost a year since we saw him last and everyday that we're apart I grow more restless. In a moment of panic this morning, I made Luke promise to take care of him if something should happen to me. An unwarranted request, I know. Luke would give his life a thousand times over for our son.

I hope it doesn't come to that.

I hope that we can grow up as a family and that Ben will have the life his parents did not have. I hope that this journal will not become a memorial keepsake, but instead, fodder for laughter at old grandmother Mara's fumbling attempts at this thing called motherhood.

I hope to hold Ben's own small children on my lap someday and tell them the story of how a brave Jedi Knight rescued an angry young woman from herself...and captured her heart.

I hope.


	2. Small things

_We can do no great things – only small things with great love._ –Mother Teresa

**Small things**

He's asleep - thank the moons and stars of Alderaan. It only took three days, but Ben is finally asleep.

And I'm not. I should be in a coma right now, but I find that I cannot take my eyes off him. If it's possible, he is more beautiful now than I've ever seen him.

His blonde hair sticks up in exactly the same place that Luke's does in the morning. His slow steady breaths are warm against my cheek and his pudgy, perfect hand twitches slightly as I type this entry in the dark.

I didn't know that children have a smell, but they do. It is a mixture of softness and sweat and innocence.

Of course, it didn't seem so soft and innocent at this time yesterday as we were well into the throes of the _child-who-will-not-sleep_ crisis.

It started the night that Ben and the other children came home from the Maw. We had decided to move out of the cave and back into the _Jade Shadow_ – much safer, we thought. A controlled environment.

I am not usually a heavy sleeper. Spending most of your life in a state of combat readiness or simply trying to stay alive tends to keep a person on their toes. But falling into bed at the end of a galactic war lends itself to deeper sleep, I guess.

The truce was reached weeks ago, but the war was not over, not for me, until Ben came home. Perhaps that was why I didn't recognize his voice that first night.

I'd heard the sound for two years in dreams, and nightmares. He was crying. In my dreams, he had simply bumped his leg or scraped his finger and needed me to kiss it and make it better. In the nightmares, he was lying at the bottom of some Force-forsaken sacrificial pit…

The sound jolted me awake. It only took a second for the haze of sleep disorientation to clear and to realize that the sound was real. He was crying, but not from the Maw or the clutches of the Yuuzhan Vong…from across the corridor.

With an infinite sigh of relief, I flung off the covers and hurried to his cabin. He looked so tiny in the adult-sized bunk, clutching his little blanket.

"It's all right," palming for the lights, I gathered him into my arms. "I'm here, sweetie. Don't cry."

He buried he face into my shoulder dampening my sleep tunic with his tears. Not that I minded. "Where Te-oh?" he asked my shoulder.

My heart froze for just a moment. I would be forever grateful to my colleagues for caring for my son and keeping him safe…and forever aware of how much of his life I had missed.

Tionne had warned me that this first night at home could be a little rough. I brushed damp hair away from his cheeks and rocked him gently, "It's nighttime and she's asleep. You can play with her tomorrow."

He pushed himself away and looked up at me with a sudden twinkle in his eyes, "We pway? We pway now?"

"No, honey," I explained gently, "It's time to sleep now. We'll play in the morning."

"No. I pway now. Okay?" Before I could stop him, he jumped down and rushed to the toy bin. "You pway wif me, Momma. Okay. We pway!" He started pulling toys from the bin like a jawa in search of hidden treasure at a droid repository.

"Well…all right…just for a minute…" I joined him on the floor as he piled my arms full of miniature X-wings and flimsy-sabers. Something in the back of my mind told me that this was not a good idea, but I shrugged it off and credited it to first-night-home jitters. And so we played.

By the time morning arrived, we had exhausted every toy and game, explored every centimeter of the _Jade Shadow,_ and reached the galley to find Luke, still in his sleep pants, stirring cups of caf. "Good morning," he smiled. "You two are up early."

I restrained a comment about how well-rested _he_ looked and took a cup of caf gratefully, "You have no idea. This boy has been non-stop since 0200 hours."

"Really? Is he all right?" Luke scooped Ben into his arms with a look of concern.

"He's fine. Just a little excited to be home, I think."

After breakfast, Luke went for his morning walk and took Ben along, carrying him on his shoulders when Ben got tired of walking. I watched them through the viewport and worried, briefly, if Luke might be over-exerting himself. He had still not recovered completely from Shimrra's poisoned amphistaff. But their smiles and laughter were so bright in the Force that Luke could have been sustained by happiness alone and not have noticed.

I bathed and dressed Ben for bed that night, thinking that he must be exhausted. He went to bed easily enough but appeared back in the common area of the _Shadow_ mere minutes later, "I pway now! I pway wif Daddy!"

Three hours later, we realized that putting a two year-old to bed is an elusive skill, even for a Jedi Master. We gaped at our bouncing son…dumbfounded.

"Okay," I turned to Luke, "how did your aunt and uncle put you to bed?"

"Well," he paused thoughtfully. "Aunt Beru would put me in my nightclothes-"

"Did that-"

"and tell me a story-"

"_The Little Podracer Who Could_ – five times-"

"and maybe drink some warm milk…"

We'd done that, too. Twice.

"What about _you_?" Luke asked. "Surely you remember that much."

"Are you kidding me? It was all nannies and officers and droids and…Sith lords. And if someone like Palpatine or Vader tells you to go to bed, you don't argue about it!"

Luke did a double-take, "My father put you to bed?"

"No!" I sighed, exasperated. "You know what I mean."

That night was no better than the one before and I was more than grateful when Tionne visited the next morning to check on Ben.

"This is a difficult time for him," she reassured. "Children his age thrive on routine and his whole world has just been rearranged. He'll sleep when he gets tired."

_He'll sleep when he gets tired._

Famous last words.

Now, I haven't figured this one out yet, but somehow Luke and Ben managed to take a nap in the forest that day. Luke blamed it on the soothing effects of Sekot. I, who had _not_ had a nap, was not impressed.

I'm a little fuzzy on the details of Night Number Three, but I do remember crawling into bed beside Luke in the early morning hours.

"Is he asleep?" Luke murmured.

"No. He's playing light-tag with Artoo." I turned to face him in the semi-darkness, "You know. Palpatine had it all wrong. He didn't need us."

Luke cocked an eyebrow.

"He didn't need Moffs or stormtroopers or Hands…or even Sith apprentices. He could have conquered the entire galaxy much faster with nothing more than an army of toddlers. Toddlers who _will not sleep._"

Luke raised up on one elbow, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I have just realized that the ultimate weapon in the galaxy is nothing more technical than small children. Children who have the power to keep their parents awake. Parents who are sleep-deprived are _vulnerable._ They'd do anything just to get to sleep. It's fool-proof-"

"Mara-?"

"Your father could have _retired._ He could have gone to his castle and…grown rose gardens."

"Rose gardens."

"Don't look at me like that! I've heard there are beautiful roses on Vjun."

"You're delirious."

"No, I am having a rare moment of clarity."

Luke just stared at me.

My rare moment of clarity turned into an even rarer moment of desperation when I commed Leia several hours later, "I can't do this."

"What?" she answered groggily. "What's wrong?"

"It's Ben."

That got her attention, "What's wrong with Ben?"

"Nothing. Except that he won't sleep. We've tried everything, Leia, and he just won't go to sleep." Swallowing my pride, I confessed, "Look, I'm not as young as I used to be and I can't stay awake for days on end. Don't tell your husband, or your brother, but I'm exhausted. I don't know what to do."

"Have you tried sleeping with him?"

"But all the holo references say not to do that. That he'll be spoiled. That he won't learn to comfort himself. That he won't develop a sense of self-esteem. That he-"

"Mara!" It was the tone of voice that could only be attributed to a Skywalker. "He is not a case study, he's your _son._" Leia leaned forward, looking amazingly like the lovely woman in her grandmother's holo journal, "What does your heart tell you?"

I nodded, breathing a silent whisper of gratitude. To hell with the kriffing holo references.

Ending the transmission, I found Ben and carried him to his room. Climbing into his bunk, I motioned for him to join me, "Come on, kiddo. It's time to go to sleep."

And he did. He crawled into the bed, curled up beside me, and fell fast asleep.

So here we are. I am amazed that such a small, simple act can bring such peace. Feeling completely content and finally drowsy, I wrap my arms around Ben, press my lips against his head and drift off to the sweet scent of his hair.


	3. Naming

**ROTS SPOILER WARNING**

**This post references events in _Revenge of the Sith_ - some speculation, some spoilers - BIG SPOILERS. If you do not want to be spoiled about ROTS, do not read this until you've seen the movie or read the novel.**

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_How simple a thing it seems to me that to know ourselves as we are, we must know our mothers' names._  
– Alice Walker

**Naming  
**

Today was my first Mother's Day. Well, not technically the first, but the first one I'd spent with Luke and Ben. There were two others, but they came and went unobserved during the war.

I might not have remembered the occasion at all if Ben hadn't tackled me in bed this morning with shouts of, "Happy Mudder's Day!" The proclamation was followed immediately by a bouquet of fragrant flowers shoved in my face, "Here! Dees for you."

His little face was so earnest, I couldn't help but laugh as I embraced him, "Thank you, sweetie!"

Luke appeared in the entry of our cabin on the _Shadow_ balancing a tray covered with exotic desserts which he placed ceremoniously on my lap.

My mouth fell open, "What's all this?"

"Well," he smiled, "considering I've never celebrated a Mother's Day before, I asked around and did a little Holo Net research as to what was expected."

"But it's so…_much._"

He shrugged, "I just wanted to cover all the bases."

Before I could protest further, his lips captured mine in a warm kiss, lingering there longer than I expected considering that Ben was in the room. He pulled away gently and whispered, "Happy Mother's Day, love."

Leaning forward, I took his hands in mine, "Thank you, Luke." It felt like such a small, insignificant gesture. I doubt he will ever know how much his efforts meant to me.

His hands were trembling slightly and I clasped them tighter, sending him a burst of reassurance through the Force. As fate or the Force would have it, this Mother's Day was also the day that we visited his mother's home planet for the first time.

The past and present have finally merged as the galaxy attempts to return itself to a semblance of order. Long forgotten vaults of information are now cherished in systems that survived the purge of the Yuzhaan Vong. They are how societies are rebuilding…and how Luke was contacted by an archivist who found documentation of the marriage of Anakin Skywalker in clerical records on Naboo.

Leia had traveled to Naboo skeptically, but commed us the very next day, "The records are legitimate, Luke. And…she's here. Her memorial…is here."

I did not need to ask who "she" was as Luke swayed slightly on his feet. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. I remem-" Leia's voice caught in her throat. "I recognize her."

We were packed and on board the _Shadow_ within the hour.

A flurry of investigation and brief meeting with the Minister of Monuments later, we stood in the Palace Plaza in front of the Triumphal Arch, gazing up at the monument that had been lovingly dedicated so many years ago.

Luke reached for Leia's hand and they approached the memorial dedicated to their mother while Han and I waited behind with the children.

They stood in silent reverence until Leia's shoulders hunched forward, shaking. Luke embraced her, resting his head on top of hers.

Beside me, Jaina brushed a tear from her cheek and Han wrapped a strong arm around her. Pulling her close, he kissed the top of her brunette head and placed a warm hand on Jacen's shoulder. The younger man had turned to his father for an uncharacteristic nod of reassurance as the ghosts of the past weighed heavy on our hearts.

When Luke finally motioned us forward with a nod of his head, we approached the monument and, one by one, stepped forward to pay our respects. Etched in a flowing script was the name: _Padmé Naberrie Amidala._

Embedded in the marble of the monument were holo images and data files depicting the life and deeds of the former Queen, and later Senator of the Republic. Scrolling through the events of her short but remarkable life, the eulogy ended with a statement that struck me with unbearable sadness: that she was buried with her unborn child. The lie that had hidden her children from the Emperor, yet denied her family the knowledge that her immortality survived

Leia stepped forward with a section of marble wrapped in soft cloth that she had procured before our arrival. Together, she and Luke placed a new marker on the memorial. Their gift to her. A name.

Hours later, the others have retreated to a quiet corner of the memorial site. Jacen and Jaina chase Ben in green field while Luke and Leia talk quietly over Han, who is fast asleep in the sunshine.

I, like Luke, have no memory of my mother and I find myself alone in front of the memorial of the only woman who could bear such a title. Today, surrounded by the vibrant colors of this lovely world, it is difficult to image the holocaust, so many years ago, that brought us to this place.

I look at the memorial holos of the lovely dark-haired young woman…and I silently thank her.

For her courage. For the sleepless newborn nights she never had. For the sweet toothless smiles she never saw. For tight toddler embraces she never felt. For the weight of the world that she was strong enough to carry in her womb.

I run my fingers lightly over the new marker.

_Padmé Naberrie Amidala Skywalker._

The name that she was not allowed to have in life. Yet another insult. Yet another travesty that we, as the new order, hope not to repeat.

There was a time when Jedi were taken from their mothers, raised worlds away to be guardians of the Republic. The Masters of old feared the danger of such parental attachments.

Yet, in the end, it was two adoptive mothers who served as guardians to the hope of the Jedi. They who have names but no memorials. Did they know the woman whose children they loved as their own? Did they realize the heritage that they held in their arms or know that their lives would one day be forfeit?

Sitting in the shadow of this monument, I am humbled by the legacy left us by Padmé and Breha and Beru. I'd like to think that they are watching. That they can see our beautiful family that exists because of them.

I'd like to think that the gentle Naboo breeze somehow carries the laughter of her grandchildren to Padmé. That she knows her son's love reclaimed her husband. That she can see that her name is once again hers…and that she is treasured in the Skywalker family.


	4. Father's eyes

_Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within._ – James A. Baldwin

**Father's eyes**

This is the time of year when Luke tends to withdraw into himself and become quiet…reflective. It took me a few years to associate his uncharacteristic moodiness with the anniversary of the Battle of Endor. The anniversary of his father's death.

I have offered to go with him to Endor or Mos Espa or even Bespin, but he usually declines, preferring to go for walks or meditate. More than once, I've caught him polishing my lightsaber with a far away look of longing. He does not say why and I do not push for an answer.

The brief relationship he shared with his father was private…intimate. I only knew of it cursorily until the night, not too long after Ben was born, when he told me everything: the despair he'd felt when his father had taken him to the Emperor, the conflict he'd felt raging beneath Vader's dark façade, the pained betrayal at having thoughts of his sister torn from his mind and the rage he'd felt when she was threatened.

Luke had touched the dark side, then. He'd felt the surge of power, addictive as any drug, that had sucked Anakin Skywalker into its void and into the prison of hate.

And he'd done it for love of his sister. We've talked about that many times since; how they are entangled threads, love and hate. More intertwined than opposites and easily as much of a snare as a bond.

That night, holding our newborn son in his arms, Luke whispered the end of the story to him, the tale of a man who had given his life to save his son. It was the night he told me that Ben has his grandfather's eyes.

He has never been one to brood about his father or even get particularly defensive when people make random comments about Darth Vader. He does not make excuses for his father's years in darkness and rarely even attempts to explain what happened between them on the Death Star to anyone outside of our family.

He doesn't expect us to understand, though we try. Especially Leia. Lately, she seems to need to be around Luke on this particular anniversary.

She came to visit this afternoon and we sat in the dining area of our new home on Ossus, sipping hot chocolate. The drink was her idea. It must be genetic.

There are times, like today, when you can see a small crack form in the wall that is Leia, the wife, mother and…daughter. She still struggles with her heritage and her relationship with her father, or her lack thereof I should say, but now it is for different reasons. I sense her longing through the Force sometimes when Luke talks about the moments he had with Anakin Skywalker, as she had only ever known Darth Vader.

We sat together and watched Ben "helping" Luke assemble a toddler-sized landspeeder in the garden. They're a handsome sight, my husband and son. In spite of my fair skin, Ben inherited his father's tan complexion. It seems to be a natural trait of Skywalker men, as the holos we have of Anakin Skywalker from the Clone Wars attest.

Leia was quiet, fingering her cup distractedly. "Does Luke still see him?" she asked suddenly.

"Who?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"Our father," she glanced up. "Does Luke still see him?"

"Sometimes," I answered carefully. "Not very often. Why?"

Leia turned her gaze back to the garden. "I told him to leave me alone. When he appeared to me on Bakura, right after Endor, and I haven't seen him since. But I do wonder sometimes if he's watching like he said he would. If he knows…."

I waited for her to continue, knowing that this was a much for her benefit as mine. She never finished the sentence.

"I should have gone with him," she said softly. I felt an unfamiliar sorrow rising in her. An old pain, long ignored. "I should have gone with Luke to the Death Star. He shouldn't have had to do that alone."

I had never heard Leia talk about Endor before. "I don't think Luke would have let you," I ventured, based on what Luke had told me of that night.

Her eyes flashed, "He couldn't have _stopped_ me."

I hadn't had much interaction with her father in my time in the Emperor's service, but from our few brief encounters, I had a healthy respect for him. Gossip was rampant in the Imperial court and I remember wondering more than once how a teenage senator from Alderaan managed to consistently hold her own against the formidable dark lord. Looking into her determined brown eyes now, I understood.

"Maybe if I'd been there," she continued, sounding almost like a confession, "it would have been different. Maybe if _both_ of us had talked to him. I knew him better than Luke. If we could have confronted him together, maybe-" her voice faltered.

"Maybe he would have turned sooner. Maybe he wouldn't have died. I would have liked to have seen him…to see his face."

I didn't say it, but even if he had been my estranged Sith lord father turned back from the dark side to save me, that whole removing the mask thing might have been a deal-breaker. I'm sure I could have found about ten other things I needed to do first before venturing beneath that helmet.

"Funny thing is," Leia continued, "I don't think Luke _needed_ to see him. Somehow, he always saw through the mask."

As if on cue, Luke appeared in the doorway saying that Ben had something to show "Aunt Waya" in the garden. I waved them on – they needed to be together today.

She was right, though. About Luke.

It is his gift, to be able to look beyond masks and facades and see a person for who they really are. The obstacles of pride and pain and past do not intimidate him. Force knows, I had a whole barricade of them, but he still found me.

Just like he found his father.

I don't think I've ever admitted it to Luke, but it was one of the reasons that I held him at a distance for so long. I was not willing to give any quarter of my carefully constructed defenses or allow anyone access to my inner self ever again, or so I thought.

It was many years before I realized the beauty of Luke's power.

That when you finally let him remove the masks, it isn't frightening or humiliating, like you'd expect. And it doesn't hurt. He does not judge, for he has made his own mistakes. In his seemingly endless capacity for compassion, you feel safe…and free.

In his arms, you want to be more than who you were yet nothing more than what you are. The flaws you try so hard to hide become nothing more than irregular threads in the mantle of his love.

It is the mantle of Skywalker that he wears proudly in honor of his father, and our family.


	5. Expectations

_A mother understands what a child does not say._ –Proverb

**Expectations  
**

This is a joke, right? A great cosmic joke triggered by a misaligned moon somewhere that turns previously sane children into raving lunatics. It has to be a joke.

That was all I could think this morning when attempting to dress Ben. Typically, this is a pleasant part of our morning routine, when he's still a bit sleepy with his hair sticking up and we dress for the day.

Today, however, was an entirely different experience. Opening his closet, I removed his brown trousers and he backed away from them with a look of horror, "No! Not dem! The blue ones!"

The blue ones, as luck would have it, were dirty. I explained this to him and he fell to the floor screaming. I mean, surely children aren't _supposed_ to act this way. He's been known to have his volatile moments, but throwing oneself on the floor in hysterics over the simple need to put on clothing cannot be normal.

Luke appeared in the doorway and stopped short at the sight of our son writhing, kicking, and screaming on the floor of his bedroom. At his questioning look, I explained about the brown and blue pants.

He blinked, pointing to the floor, "_Brown pants_ caused that?"

"Apparently."

"Not Force lightning?"

I stared at him, "That's not funny."

"I didn't say it was _funny…_" Luke knelt on the floor and, half an hour of negotiation later, Ben settled for a gray pair of trousers as, once again, my husband proved himself to be the most patient person in the galaxy.

The day went downhill from there. Everything was a battle: the travesty of putting on shoes, the trials and tribulations of hair brushing, the altercation over what to eat for lunch. Luke bore the brunt of that last one, wearing almost an entire bowl of Likryt stew and picking prunchti noodles out of his hair. I suspected that Luke's seemingly endless patience was beginning to wear thin when he suggested consulting Cilghal, claiming that a child who loses his mind over soup must be sick.

Then there was the incident at the Academy. Luke had called a meeting and Ben is usually very cooperative about going to play with the younger children, but today he wanted to 'listen to Daddy.'

'Listening to Daddy' turned into wanting to sit on Daddy's lap while he talked. Luke obliged him but Ben had no intention of listening and, instead, pulled on Daddy's arms, tried to climb on Daddy's shoulders, and stuck stubby little fingers in Daddy's mouth.

Luke turned to me, motioning for me to come claim the tiny tyrant. Ben protested wildly, kicking and screaming when I tried to disentangle him from Luke, and that's when it happened. He bit me.

The child formerly known as Ben _bit me!_

Luke jumped to his feet, "Ben! Excuse us," he nodded to the room full of Jedi. Many an eyebrow raised in the room at the sight of the Masters Skywalker wrestling their unruly son. Those who were parents themselves nodded in understanding commiseration, but I was mortified.

I turned my back to the crowd of colleagues and faced Luke, "It's all right - I can handle it." With that, I wrapped Ben in a Baragwin hold, a restraining technique I'd not used since the days of my service to Palpatine, and carried the still-screaming child from the room.

I had expected certain things in motherhood. I expected to love my child. I expected late nights and early mornings, conflicts and resolutions. But I never expected humiliation. I never expected to be so angry with my son that I had to walk away from him to keep from saying or doing something I'd deeply regret later.

I started to feel the familiar refrains of doubt and insecurity that I'd felt as a new mother and could only imagine that his behavior was the result of something I'd done wrong. That I'd somehow failed in his upbringing.

There was a time when I had thought that failing the Emperor was the worst thing that could happen to me. Looking back, I laugh at such thoughts now – at the vain, self-absorbed pride of youth. The stakes had been high then with entire governments, at times, resting on my actions. Looking at my small, defiant son, I realized that the stakes were much higher now.

Tionne found me after the meeting. "I know it's rough, Mara, but this is normal," she assured me. "It is a difficult time for him, when his body and mind are growing faster than he can comprehend. Children Ben's age are also notorious for testing the limits and you're doing the right thing by holding your ground. Don't let him win."

I thanked her and turned to Ben with renewed vigor. If the boy wanted a fight, he'd picked the wrong person. I'd taken down opponents from the vilest backwater criminal to the most sophisticated warriors. My own three-year old son could not be as difficult as all that.

Let me just say that, again, my expectations were misguided.

Our battle of wills culminated in a standoff over the toy chest. Ben outright refused to pick his toys up before bed. Now, normally I would not have made an issue out of something so trivial but, as Tionne had admonished, this wasn't about the toys.

I must say I was impressed with Ben's resourcefulness in his attempts to avoid picking up his room. He went to the 'fresher, made multiple trips to the kitchen claiming that he was thirsty then hungry then thirsty again; he even professed to several ailments, including headaches and an upset tummy. But, following Tionne's advice, I stood my ground.

Luke found us sitting on the floor on opposite sides of Ben's bedroom, toys scattered between us, staring at each other. He shook his head, "Give it up, son. She can do that for _days_."

Ben proceeded to hold his arms out to Luke, begging for Daddy to rescue him. I'd already explained the situation and tactics to Luke and he agreed, but the sight of his distraught son was almost too much for him. Luke is not a weak man, but Ben somehow knew exactly which buttons to push. I finally had to usher Luke from the room and shut the door behind him.

I turned to Ben and sighed, "Look. Just pick the toys up and this will be over and you can go to bed."

My determined son shook his head 'no.' _Stubborn Skywalker,_ I thought, leaning against the wall. How the Corellian hells Shmi had ever done this as a single mother, I will never know. The woman must have been a saint and I had the strangest urge to go to the Lars' old homestead on Tatooine and place a medal on her recently replaced grave marker.

"Pick up the toys, Ben," I sighed.

"No."

"Wrong answer. Pick the toys up."

"No!"

"Ben!"

"NOOO!"

And something in him snapped. Throwing himself backwards, he started beating his head violently against the wall. I ran to him, "Stop it! You're going to hurt yourself, baby!" I pulled him off the floor and he looked up at me in desperation, then collapsed in my arms, sobbing.

I don't know if it was the Force or intuition, but something shifted in my heart and I suddenly knew it wasn't about the toys for him, either. It was about his world changing in the whirlwind of early childhood. It was about feelings and thoughts and abilities assaulting him faster than he could understand. It was about wanting to be free and held all at the same time.

That's when I knew I couldn't win. I didn't _want _to win. I wanted his obedience, but not by force. Not by breaking his spirit.

His frustration poured over me with his tears and I held him, rocking him slowly and stroking his hair. "It's hard growing up, isn't it?" I asked softly.

He nodded against my shoulder.

"You're getting to be a big boy, Ben, and we all have to do things we don't want to do. But, listen to me," I held his tear-stained face in my hands. "Daddy and I love you and we will always be here for you. We will always help you when you need us." He wiped his face against my shirt. "How about we pick up these toys together, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded.

Later, when I tucked him into bed, he tackled me in a spontaneous burst of affection, "I love you, Mommy!"

If I'd questioned my actions earlier, I do not doubt them now. Entering today's events in my journal, I realize that my expectations have actually been exceeded. A new bond of understanding has formed between us and somehow, I think we _both _won.

Glancing over at Luke's stew-stained shirt, however, I make a mental note to prepare food that matches the color of our clothes tomorrow…just in case.


End file.
